


Underwater Dance

by Lacertae



Series: Kinktoberfest 2018 [7]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Cultist Tekhartha Zenyatta, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Monster of the Lagoon Akande, Tentacle Dick, Tentacles, Underwater Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 08:43:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16426148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacertae/pseuds/Lacertae
Summary: Kinktober 2018 Day 14 - Lagoon Monster!Doomfist/Cultist!Zenyatta





	Underwater Dance

**Author's Note:**

> they are meant for one another and I *had* to write this

**Day 14 –** ~~Asphyxiation~~ **|** ~~Cunnilingus~~ **|** ~~Distention~~ **| Tentacles**

The water of the lagoon is cold around him as he descends slowly, step by step, into its murky depths.

He feels plants brush against his ankles, sensors recalibrating to dull the slosh of water against them, and watches as the glow coming from within him makes strange shapes on the surface before he plunges deeper, disappearing below the line of water.

His optical receptors shift, becoming sharper to counter the loss of light, and the glow coming from within him dims until it is barely visible as he swims to the middle of the lake, plunging deeper and deeper, leaving behind the surface and the moss and plants covering it. His body makes swimming easy, and the water feels almost like home… especially when the light vanishes, and darkness surrounds him.

The lagoon is wide and secluded, and very few know of its existence, untouched of all human presence… the only ones who happen by it are those with higher sensibilities, such as the Monk himself.

Deeper, and deeper still, where so little light shines, and the glow coming from his core helps him see, though there is nothing around him that he wants to see –except that his light is a beacon, attracting the one he’s seeking… and he comes, as he always does, swimming silently and deathly to meet with him.

A human-shaped figure swims around him in a swirl of bubbles, sleek and big, muscles bulging as he gets closer and closer with every twist and turn, and the Monk –Zenyatta is his name, almost forgotten, never spoken out loud by humans or monsters alike– opens his arms wide to welcome him, creature of the water, creature of the swamp, as he comes with his teeth bared in a pleased grin, one that Zenyatta can only half glimpse.

They do not speak –not here, not now– but the creature, who goes by the name Akande, wraps both arms around Zenyatta’s shoulders and tugs him against his chest.

Zenyatta’s optical receptors see fins flutter, inches from him, as they expel a flurry of bubbles. ‘ _I missed you,_ ’ Akande signs, and the glint in his eyes makes something inside Zenyatta’s core stutter.

Akande’s body is cold against his own, and the water around them just as much, yet he feels heat inside him.

He brings his hand to Akande’s chest and languidly traces signs all over it in reply, optical receptors never straying from Akande’s dark eyes, taken captive by the desire and longing he sees in them. _‘I have been unfortunately busy’_ , he says, and his forehead array flares a deeper green, casting an eerie glow on Akande’s face as his grin widens. Under Zenyatta’s fingers, Akande’s chest twitches at the touch, craving for more. _‘My thoughts have returned to you often. I missed you as well.’_

Akande’s throat makes a sound not unlike a chirp yet deeper, and Zenyatta hums.

A pair of strong hands curl against the delicate wiring of his throat, tugging him closer to Akande’s face, gentle even when Zenyatta is not frail, nor soft, nor used to kindness. The tentacles covering his mouth piece reach out, caress Akande’s hands, and–

Akande kisses him, and Zenyatta’s tentacles swarm around his face, keeping him close.

The kiss is not gentle –teeth scrape against the metal of his face plate, lips that are hard and thin seek the seam of his mouth piece past the flurry of his tentacles, demanding and unyielding and Zenyatta acquiesces.

Omnic energy surges to kiss Akande back, and a pleased murmur vibrates in the water around them as Akande keeps him close, twirling the two of them around and deeper into the lake, Zenyatta so tightly enveloped in his embrace that it would be difficult to disentangle now… yet, he does not.

Zenyatta hisses, losing his balance in the dance, a vertigo of thrill when he cannot discern where the surface is anymore, and in this lapse of control he feels one of Akande’s hands slide down his front, ripping his clothes away, none-too-gently.

His fingers dance against Akande’s chest, mimicking a laughter that he feels bubble inside his synth, but his focus returns sharply to the wandering hand when he feels it press, demanding, against his modesty panel.

They can only meet ever so often, pulled far from one another as Zenyatta travels where the Iris’ wills and Akande waits for when his time will come, and the longing they both feel –something deep, carved within them, physical yet not– burns with every minute they are separated, and when they do meet… oh, he’s missed Akande, and knows better than anyone what emotion Akande is feeling, what he wants to express with his demanding, needy actions.

Close again for what feels like never enough, they both wish to feel alive, as they are when they are together.

One hand moves to tug at Akande’s pants, and from underneath he feels something surge into his touch –first one, then a second wriggling cock push into his fingers.

Akande growls, the sound wrapping around Zenyatta like a blanket as he thrusts into him, and Zenyatta chirps, fingers sliding from one tentacled cock to the other.

Gold unravels from within him, wriggling until his own tentacles appear and reach for Akande, wrapping around both of them, so bright that they shine light in the depths of the lake and he can finally see Akande clearly, ghastly yet striking as he thrusts into him.

Teeth as sharp as razor flash from behind thin lips, pupils constricting until they are almost invisible, yet Akande refuses to look away, as enraptured with Zenyatta’s presence as Zenyatta is with him, muscles strong and thick, made for swimming, fins that flutter and expand under his gaze, and thin glowing blue veins all over his frame that come alive only when Zenyatta’s golden light shines upon them.

Beautiful, and deathly, and he belongs to him.

Zenyatta’s hand can barely wrap around one wriggling cock, slippery and wet, that the other pushes into his hold, both vying for friction as Akande thrusts into him, unable to wait. Zenyatta’s neck arches when Akande returns the gesture, fingers curling around his own prosthetic cock with a steady grip, tugging at it with the meanness of one who wants it all, and then more, and cannot wait.

The golden tentacles have a mind of their own, wriggle between their bodies, pushing Zenyatta’s hand away, they curl around both of Akande’s cocks, rub against them, steady and ever moving.

Slow, teasing, they rub at the thinner tips, explore the familiar ridges down to the bases where they join, move to the underneath until Akande’s hips buck into them and then they offer a pocket for him to fuck into, tightening around one, then the other, never both, never caressing at the same speed.

More tentacles come to life and focus on Zenyatta himself, part his thighs, expose all he has to offer to Akande so his bulk can better fit between them, and curl around his wrist to guide Akande’s fingers lower until they push inside Zenyatta, up to the knuckle, then _deeper_.

Akande growls, baring his teeth, thrusts into the tentacles between them with aggressive little movements, and mimics the motion with his fingers, thrusting inside Zenyatta hard and fast as he feels the same golden tentacles push between his own legs to explore and wriggle inside, connecting them further.

Zenyatta wraps his arms around Akande’s shoulders, clings on him as he feels the golden around them take over, tinging the water with light, optical receptors fluttering close in ecstasy.

Water sloshes around them, and the sound of Akande’s grunts is all he can hear, the thrumming of his fans and processes overloading and spinning drowning the rest of the world until there is nothing left except himself and Akande.

Deeper, and deeper still, where nothing except Akande can exist, and now him, Akande’s body hard against his own as they rut, mindless and driven, golden tentacles sliding between them, pushing and pulling and bringing them even closer, and–

Zenyatta’s forehead array flashes bright, Akande’s face close to his faceplate, teeth bared as he leans in and bites down into one of his pistons, and–

Pleasure crests every time Akande’s fingers curl inside him and push deeper, just a little more, and Zenyatta’s fingers plead against his skin for more, and feels Akande’s movements get faster, the tentacles so tight around them they could very well be one, and–

He overloads, abrupt and fierce, slick lubrication glowing before it dissolves in the water, feels Akande shudder against him as his orgasm ripples through his body, and they hold onto each other, riding their pleasure, coaxing each other until they are spent.

Processes sluggish, Zenyatta slumps against Akande, forehead pressed into his chest, and feels the thrum of his heart beat against the curve of his faceplate, so focused on that vibration he barely notices the tentacles disappear, light giving way into darkness again.

The last thing that’s burned into his optical receptors before all light is gone and darkness envelopes them again, silent and heavy is Akande’s gaze as he nuzzles against him, sated and pleased, fingers wrapping around his lither frame.

Like this, floating mindlessly in a tight embrace in the coldest depths of the lagoon, Zenyatta can almost feel warm again.


End file.
